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[Winter]

It was something of a contradiction that while a swarm of orange jumpsuits rushed all around the vast expanse of the UNS Shogun's mecha hangar, frantically preparing Wildfire Squadron's aircraft for their scheduled launch and Striker Squadron's for takeoff at a moment's notice, Winter Kanzaki sat calm and quiet in the middle of it all, slowly sipping water from a sport bottle. From his vantage point perched on the edge of his VF-11 Thunderbolt's cockpit he could watch the commotion below, as if he were lounging in the eye of a storm, but although his cold blue eyes tracked a few of the technicians while they raced across his field of vision, his focus was somewhere else. The mission briefing with Sub-director Viachi that he had left nearly two and a half hours ago, to be precise.

Truth be told, he was just as disappointed as Chorizal and Scott that Striker Squadron didn't fit into the deployment plan for this mission, regardless of what his demeanour back in the briefing room said about it. As accustomed to serving in cramped starships as he was, the Shogun itself almost seemed to be closing in around him lately, and the only thing he wanted was to get back out into open space. To him, riding on a pair of thermonuclear fusion turbines with just a few centimetres of canopy glass between him and the cold, inky void was just about the closest thing there was to 'going home'. Oh, the information officer's logic was sound of course: the Thunderbolt just didn't have what it took for this operation. There were about half a dozen alternatives that he could think of where both squadrons could participate, but they all really amounted to a waste of resources just to feed five men's egos (Restra excepted).

What had happened back there went beyond just disappointment over not being deployed, though. It even went beyond a spat or minor bout of bickering. Winter was fairly certain that things were close to becoming somewhat more serious, thanks in no small part to Chorizal's insufferable Zentraedi pride and the cavalier attitudes of those two Rangers (as if he was one to talk!). He had to wonder if Viachi had hoped for it to play out that way, or even intended it. Pfft, Winter thought testily as he sipped his water and watched the Wildfire pilots prep for launch across the hangar. Sounds like something that asshole would do.

[Shinjo]

Second Lieutenant Ichihara Shinjo was, once again, a happy person. It wasn't that hard to make him happy, really. He was naturally positive, as it were. It was not, in fact, long after he left the oppressive atmosphere of the briefing room that his good mood returned. When he strode into the hangar two and a half hours later, he did so on a full stomach and with enough coffee in his system to keep him awake and alert for as long as could possibly be necessary, garbed in his flight suit and carrying his helmet rather casually. As he entered the hangar, he moved through the crowds of technicians, nodding toward Winter.

Reaching the VF-11D he shared with Restra, Shinjo ran a hand along it as he walked around the fighter, even though the technicians were already doing all that stuff. However, this was the sort of thing he did... mostly because that was what he was supposed to do; a lot of the pre-flight checks a pilot was supposed to do before takeoff happened outside the aircraft, so that was more or less what he was doing. That done, he set his helmet on the floor at the foot of the ladder leading up to his cockpit and took a seat on the bottom rung. Waiting. For... whatever was going to happen.

[Heartbreak]

Scott sat on the bottom rung of his VF-11's boarding ladder, helmet attached to the top of his life-support backpack, and rested his chin on one gloved hand as he watched the VF-19's of the Wildfire squadron get prepped for launch.
He was still fed up, but more, just bored. The frantic activity on the other side of the hangar made him want to be jumping up and doing something... but the Strikers had to be on standby. Which amounted to an intense period of preparation while their fighters were flight-prepped, armed, and loaded, the pilots pulling on their flight suits and life support gear... and then waiting, just in case.
Bit of an anti-climax, really.

He remembered stories his father had told him of back on Earth, when Navy pilots would sit the 'alert five' on the ocean-going aircraft carriers, sitting in their cockpits for what could be hours at the end of a catapult, in case anything happened.
It was tedious duty, and tiring because their nerves would be on edge for the slightest hint of anything happening. This current duty would be similar.
Frowning and shaking himself out of the thought, he stood up and stretched, before crossing over to Winters' side, nodding towards the former pilot and standing next to him - for company if nothing else.

[Restra]

Unlike the rest of her squad mates, Restra actually had something to do. By the time everyone had gathered in the hangar, she was working with the technicians to get the secure channel Viachi had mentioned up and running. She was already in her sound suit and settled into her half of the cockpit she shared with Shinjo, running equipment tests while the technicians made the final adjustments.

It was very important to her to get this right so that she would be able to help Wildfire squadron on their mission. While everyone else may have thought about their positions on this ship as being two separate teams somehow in competition with each other, Restra thought of them as all being on the same team. They were all in this together. Restra had no intention of saving her skills just for her squadron. When she had come into this whole arrangement, she had believed she would be helping people, regardless of who they were or what they believed or what squadron they happened to be on. Restra's determination was so strong that she wanted to have her equipment up and ready before Wildfire Squadron was ever ready to depart. When when the technicians finally gave her a thumbs up, Restra actually sighed with relief.

She had spent the time after the briefing mostly warming up her voice. She had rushed over to the hangar long before any of the rest of her squad mates had gotten there, though it was quite understandable since the rest of them didn't have much to do. Now that everything was set up, she finally felt like she could relax. She asked one of the technicians to let Major Sterns know she was up and running when Wildfire Squadron was ready to depart, then closed the canopy on her part of the cockpit so that she would have silence and peace so that she could concentrate properly. She hummed a few bars to keep her voice warmed up and anxiously awaited the beginning of the mission.

[Enyo]

Enyo was starting to like the Shogun less and less. They had to make everything completely too complicated. Why couldn't they just go out and battle? Why did everything have to turn into... What was that word? Drama! Yes. Why did everything have to turn into drama. They yelled at each other and laughed and really got nothing at all accomplished. She wasn't even going to get to fight unless Wildfire proved incompetent. It was disturbing to think that pilots she had to fly with could be incompetent.

There was another word. It was miss. She missed Fleet Commander Kana. She missed the Shakat Fleet. She would never tell those things to her commander of course. The Meltran would probably have her executed for being weak. Enyo was starting to think that would be a good escape from this place.

The tall woman stood near her fighter as she always did. One of her cheeks and both of her hands pressed against the cold metal. She murmured to the machine softly in her native tongue. Enyo acted as if the machine was alive and her companion in all of these trials. "You are not my Rau, but you always fly true. I know your heartbeat and you know mine. Don't worry about the rest. They are fools. I know your worth."

It may as well been comfort to herself, but Enyo was known to talk to her fighter. The mechanics scrambling around didn't pay too much attention to the fact. As far as they knew it was something that particular version of a Meltran happened to do.

[Chorizal]

Chorizal's hair was barely dry as he stalked into the hangar. Given how short it was, that was some indication of how recently his shower had ended. He'd gone straight from the briefing to the gym. The following 2 hours had been almost non-stop exercise. He'd hammered a punching bag and speed bag until his hands ached and then gone through various exercises until the fatigues he'd worn to the briefing were soaked through with sweat.

He went straight from there to the shower in his room and straight from the shower in his room to the hangar, stopping only long enough to change into his flight suit and get a bottle of water to replace the fluids he'd sweated out.

His deliberate march didn't stop when he got to the hangar and he stalked straight to his fighter, ignoring the technicians and his fellow pilots. He climbed into the cockpit, jammed his helmet on his head and waited.

[Winter]

Winter was pulled out of his reverie and back to reality by a flash of movement on the fringe of his vision as Scott edged up to his fighter. Setting his personal introspection aside for now, the squadron commander swung his legs around over the edge of the Thunderbolt's cockpit and slid down the ladder, his boots striking the deck with a sharp, echoing report. All semblances of his pensive mood were gone in an instant, lost behind a good-humoured grin as he casually leaned an elbow against one of the ladder's rungs. Striker Squadron's morale needed a shot in the arm more than anything else right now, and the ex-pirate knew he had to lead by example. "Glad you transferred out of the marine squad yet, Scott?" he quipped with a slanted grin. Of any of the human pilots under his command - Chorizal and Enyo notwithstanding - Scott Valentine showed the most eagerness to get into the action, and Winter was genuinely sympathetic toward how the marine felt at being denied that chance.

The sound of someone murmuring caught Winter's ear, and his eyes wandered over to where Enyo had herself splayed across her aircraft's side fuselage, whispering sweet nothings into the thruster intake in her native tongue. He couldn't help but snort a laugh at the sight, though he was smart enough to keep it down so as not to attract the Meltran's attention. "Looks like some of us are coping with this better than others," he observed with an amused glimmer in his dark blue gaze. "Better do something before we all come unglued, huh? Alright, Striker Squadron! Everybody whose name doesn't start with R, get over here!"

[Shinjo]

Second Lieutenant Shinjo rose an eyebrow slightly as he saw Chorizal stalking across the hangar toward his fighter. Apparently, the Zentran hadn't calme down any over the last couple hours. Then, when Winter called them toward him, Shinjo mutteret, "Guess that includes me," to no one in particular. Picking up his helmet, he stood and made his way across the hangar toward where Winter and Scott were. Along the way, he took another look around the bay, raising an eyebrow slightly as he saw Enyo doing... whatever it was she was doing by her fighter. Of course, he could attribute that to the fact that she was a Meltran, and not particularly aware that that was a weird thing to do with a plane. But, to each their own, he supposed.

Reaching Winter's fighter, he stopped, coming to attention and saluting his squadron commander. Whether or not Winter was really fond of that sort of thing, Shinjo was, at heart, still the kind of guy that did things the way he was supposed to. More or less. Once he relaxed, though, he nodded toward Scott with a grin, then looked back toward Winter. "So, what's the good word, sir?"

[Winter]

Though he hid the fact well enough, Winter felt somewhat dismayed when Shinjo was the only one who responded to his call for a squadron assembly at his fighter. He wasn't naive enough to think that the pilots under his command were all model soldiers, but he always thought of them as being 'black sheep' rather than outright undisciplined. Maybe Domerin Lorcasf's comments in the briefing hit closer to home than anyone had expected. He found it hard to believe that it was possible for a team of professional officers' morale to sink so low just from drawing an assignment that was less than ideal, but the evidence was before him. The space pirate sighed and leaned his head against the side rail of his cockpit ladder with a dull clang! He was starting to wonder if he'd been too soft on them, to have everyone moping around like this.

"No good word yet, Ichihara," Winter announced in reply to the young red-haired pilot's question. Shinjo was a good kid; like Scott, Winter figured he was one of the few pilots on the team who could get along with everyone else without any trouble. That was the kind of attitude this squadron needed more than anything else right now. "No word that I liked, anyway. I haven't heard too many that I liked lately. Hold on one sec."

The squadron leader moved away from his fighter and took one step in Chorizal's and Enyo's general direction, cupping his hands on either side of his mouth as he called out, "Rchorizal! Renyo! I'm sorry, I didn't realise I was misreading your names on the roster this whole time! You're still welcome to join us if you want, but I don't want to trouble you, alright!"

[Enyo]

Enyo snapped back into reality only after the white haired pilot had called her name. Well Winter had called her name in an unusual way. She noticed that more than anything else he had said today. It was just that being prepared for battle was more important than anything else. So speaking to the fighter helped to make sure she and the machine were both ready at any moment.

Her eyes narrowed for just a moment, but the Meltran managed to make her way over. Enyo hoped that there wouldn't be another useless fight. All they did was yell at each other and not a single person managed to get injured. If they had any decency someone would get punched if they were going to go through all of that arguing.

"It is not trouble. Don't be stupid...." She frowned and thought about it just for a moment. "...sir."

[Heartbreak]

Scott gave a smile and a nod of recognition to Shinjo as he joined Winter and the marine by the side of Winters' plane.
He listened patiently as they conversed and then smirked slightly as the space pirate bellowed.
"So, skipper. What's the plan?" he said once everyone had made their way over. "Have something mind for us?"

[Chorizal]

Although Chorizal was normally one to follow orders, he saw no reason to if no one else was going to. Thus, he remained in his fighter until it seemed that the entirety of his squad had gathered together at Winter's fighter.

Then, he climbed out of his mecha and stomped over to join them. He didn't speak once he joined them, nor did he remove his helmet. He looked from one person to the next as though daring them to comment before settling his gaze on Winter.

"Sorry for the delay, sir," he said with arms crossed. He made no excuses or explanations, however.

[Winter]

Enyo's 'reassuring' words when she joined the rest of the squadron under the wing of Winter's fighter only earned her a well-humoured smirk from the squadron leader, before his glacial blue eyes tilted up over her shoulder at the big Zentran that approached behind her. "Don't think anything of it, Chorizal. Apparently we have plenty of time anyway. No sense in rushing to stand around," the pirate chuckled lightly as he folded his arms over his chest. At Scott's question, Winter eyed the marine aviator sharply, and his smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "Lesson number one, marine: I've always got something in mind."

The space pirate leaned back against the fuselage of his fighter again, striking just the sort of pose one would expect from a leader who was about to give his beleaguered team an inspirational speech: arms crossed, left foot hooked casually around right ankle. "Listen, guys, I don't like being stuck here watching the Wildfire folks prep for takeoff like a kid with his nose pressed up against a candy shop window anymore than I'm sure you do. And I'm the last person to lecture anyone on professionalism. What happened back there in the briefing with Viachi wouldn't even be considered acceptable in my old outfit, though. You're tired, you're restless, you all want to get out there and start kicking ass, I know, but we can't start going at each other's throats. We've got a killer somewhere on this ship that's trying to accomplish just that, we don't need to give him a hand.

"If you all understand one thing, understand this: we're alone out here. Right now, Earth and the UN don't matter. We're neck deep in a river of shit, and the only person, the only person, who's going to pull you through to the other side isn't some admiral on Mars or a politician in Alaska. It's the person swimming next to you." Winter let his words drop off there, lapsing into a momentary silence to let the pilots absorb them. He was terrible at these damn speeches, truth be told, but as long as he got his point across it was good enough for him. After a few seconds had passed, the ex-pirate picked up again, "This isn't a problem that started and ended at the briefing. This squadron hasn't flown a sortie yet that I would say is satisfactory. Not for a campaign like this. We fly like a bunch of wannabe heroes, leaving our comrades behind when they're in trouble and ignoring mission parameters or orders from the bridge. We don't give a shit about each other, just what we want to get out of this - adventure, personal aggrandizement, just to get through this and get out - and that has to stop." Of course, his last applied to some members of the squadron more than others, but to Winter's mind, nothing would be accomplished if he let anyone off easy.

With this, the squadron leader's wolfish grin returned, and a mischievous gleam flashed just behind his cold eyes. "That's why we're going to play a little game called 'Truth or Dare'. For those of you who don't know - probably just Enyo - this is a game that young miclone females play in order to form social bonds with each other. I'll ask a person to pick 'truth' or 'dare', and depending on what they choose, I'll either ask them a question that they must answer truthfully, or I'll give them a task that they must carry out as soon as they're able to. When their turn is over, that person will pick someone else, and the cycle continues.

"Chorizal! Before you start bitching, yes you have to do this. Ichihara, you're up first. Make your choice!"

[Shinjo]

Shinjo stifled a laugh as best he could as Winter called out to "Rchorizal" and "Renyo". The two of them, after all, would probably be rather unhappy with him if they saw him laughing at them, and they could also both beat the crap out of him, which was something he was definitely not fond of. However, when the two of them came and "reported" to Winter, he immediately found something excessively interesting in the opposite direction of where they had come to stand. Honestly, he couldn't understand why people tried the overt seriousness thing with a man like Winter Kanzaki. It wasn't likely to end extraordinarily well. Ever.

Once he'd recovered... that is, once that thing wasn't interesting anymore... Shinjo looked back at Winter, listening rather intently to the speech he was making. It all made quite a bit of sense, really. The fact that they really had never started getting along very well was something he had noticed a number of times since he'd come in from Eden a month ago. Of course... playing a thirteen year old girl's slumber party game sort of caught him by surprise. It wasn't really the usual team-building exercise that one would expect. Which, when one thinks about it, was the exact sort of team-building exercise that someone like Winter would come up with. He was also mildly surprised when Winter chose him to go first. Someone had to go first, though. Shinjo smirked, glancing around at the rest of the squadron. "I feel sort of like living on the edge, I guess. I'll go with dare on this one, sir." The irony of the fact that he said he was living on the edge while playing Truth or Dare was not lost on him.

[Damon Clau]

Damon had spent his two hours prior to the mission wandering the ship some more. He was trying to assemble a scent map of the place, more specifically he was looking for the scent that was in all the wrong, or perhaps right, places. Someone had killed most of wildfire squadron’s original members as well as attempt to kill the newest collection and had yet to be caught… this did nothing to aid his opinion of ‘spooks’ as being nothing more then glorified desk jockey’s

By time he’d realized it’d been two hours Damon was already late and had to rush to his room and get dressed in his flight suit. He was more then a little surprised by just how much he’d missed wearing a flight suit even the simple act of carrying a helmet around just felt right.

He quickly made his way to the hanger bay and joined the group but kept his mouth shut as Winter was talking… “Truth or Dare? Just how bad off is this squad that he needed to resort to Truth or Dare?” Damon’s thoughts though quickly went to ground and he listened in, set to learn more about his squad.

((edit: forgot the italics which to me indicate thoughts...))

[Heartbreak]

Scott grinned back at Winter, liking the man's attitude. It was something he could get behind. Good-natured, and just enough in the lines to get by on, without having a stick up ones' arse.
As he recognised the ex-pirate was giving them a briefing or a morale boost of sorts, he naturally adopted an attentive attention pose, hands clasped in the small of his back, until Winter revealed the name of the game - truth or dare - and the marine laughed quietly.

This was going to be fun - and hopefully it would take off the tension they were all under, which was of course what Winter was planning.
Grinning, he listened for Shinjo's dare.

[Winter]

Winter's predatory grin grew at Ichihara's response, practically stretching from ear to ear. Just what he'd hoped the young pilot would pick. Tell-all discussions about other people weren't exactly his speed, but when it came to brewing some trouble, the ex-pirate liked to think there was no one better for the job than him. Of course, he needed to give Shinjo something big and impressive to do in order to keep his reputation as a mischief maker intact. Striker Squadron's leader leaned back against the side of his fighter, cupping his chin in one hand and generally making a show of pondering his options.

It was at that point that Damon strolled up to the rest of the squadron, if somewhat late, and derailed Winter's train of thought. He didn't mind, though; the more time he had to think, the more time he had to come up with something truly devious. "Glad you could join us, Clau. Found your way around the ship alright?" It wasn't an accusation. Up until a few days ago, Damon had spent the entire voyage cooped up in a holding cell. Anyone in that situation would have a tough time navigating their new home for the first little while. On the other hand, this didn't really bode well for the squadron's discipline, either. "We might be on stand-by, and still outside the operation zone, but just make sure you're here on-time next time, alright? You never know when a Sigma battle ship might fold in right on top of us," he added before turning his dark blue stare back to Shinjo.

"Alright, here's the deal. Next time you score a kill, at your earliest opportunity - meaning when we're not getting shot at - go out in your fighter and do an end-zone dance on the bow of the Shogun, in full view of the bridge. Dedicate it to 'Alita' over the radio." That last part was the icing on the cake. As if the rest of it wouldn't be more than enough to raise the hackles of the ship's stern XO, addressing her by her first name would have her seeing red - and, quite possibly, have Ichihara seeing latrine duty. "Alright, Snake. Choose your victim."

[Chorizal]

Chorizal crossed his arms over his chest as Winter began his "pep talk." The more Winter talked, the tighter and tighter Chorizal's fists, arms and jaw got. He was especially infuriated when Winter claimed they'd never flown a "satisfactory" sortie. Striker Squadron had won every sortie they'd flown, accomplished their mission objectives every time and, other than the time they were ambushed by the Meltrandi fleet, destroyed everyone of their opponents every time, all without losing a single pilot. How much more satisfactory could they fly? Perhaps what this war needed was heroes rather than grunts.

His ire did not diminish as Winter made his suggestion for helping the squadron bond. Looking around, he wondered if he would be forced to kiss one or more of the other men of the squad. After all, Enyo was the only female currently in the group. Restra was already in her fighter. That left the probability of a male selecting a female very slim. And if they were going to play this game, where was the bottle?

He realized his mistake when Winter outlined the dare that Shinjo would have to accept. Chorizal had limited contact with human prepubescent girls (or boys for that matter.) Apparently, he had confused which game they were playing. His relief was enough that he uncrossed his arms and relaxed a little.

[Damon Clau]

Damon actually bowed at Winter though he never took his eye’s off him an act that on his homeworld of Eden’s Portent was one of respect. “My apologies, sir. I became lost on my journey. I will strive to better myself for next time.”

For Damon this game was an old one. “Truth is a powerful weapon and tool. But Winter seems more interested in raising hell. If the whispers are to be believed then he was once a pirate as well as a Spacy pilot. What does the sub-director have on him? How much can he be trusted? How much can anyone on this ship be trusted?”

The dare Winter presented to Shinjo was something that Damon didn’t think should even be attempted he’d encountered the harpy and Shinjo was taking a serous risk, or worse yet She could bring her wrath down on the squad itself. “Nothing to do now but wait for my turn.”

[Shinjo]

Shinjo couldn't help but look around at the rest of the pilots gathered around Winter's plane in mild perplexity, specifically Chorizal and this Clau guy, who looked like they were taking the whole "Truth or Dare" thing way too seriously. Honestly... it's a game. There was no need to get all uppity over it. Of course, that seemed to be Chorizal's default attitude toward everything, and Shinjo didn't really know the other guy, so he couldn't honestly say whether or not he should be surprised by that turn of events.

When Winter starts talking about his dare, the young pilot's gaze snaps back toward his commander. He blinked a couple of times, then a slow grin spread itself across his features. "That sounds like it'll be highly... unpopular... with the Commander, sir," he said, although by the tone of his voice, it sounded like he had no problem whatsoever doing it. He hadn't done an end-zone dance in a Battroid since winning his first "engagement" in flight school, after all. And besides, if all else failed, he could just chalk it up to attempting to increase squadron morale, which wouldn't necessarily be a lie. When Winter told him to pick the next victim, he looked around the rest of them again, as if appraising them and their capacity for getting into trouble. "Let's go with miss Enyo on this one."